


Know Who You Are

by Anonymous



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Forced Feminization, Graphic Rape, Humiliation, Kink Meme, M/M, Other, Sexual Torture, there's a reason I'm anonymous, this isn't even my kink, trashcan fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was teaching Enjolras obedience. "Don't do something you'll regret."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Know Who You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Enjolras is kidnapped by a wealthy man whose been stalking him for a long time, the man thinks that Enjolras is too pretty to be a man and needs to stop being so headstrong and act like a proper lady to a good husband, so he decides to be the one to teach Enjolras his place.
> 
> Enjolras is forced to act like his perfect little housewife at all times, in the day he's forced to clean, cook and follow around his husband. He's only allowed to wear skirts, dresses or nothing at all. If he refuses he is punished. And during sex he is only allowed to call his cock/ass his clit/pussy. Please a lot of crying and humiliation from Enjolras who hates all of this and just wants to go home.

Enjolras couldn’t sing.

Courfeyrac was always telling stories of the saints, other heroes that only he worshipped, and when times were darkest, they always sang. To keep their spirits up, to show rebellion, for any reason at all. But Enjolras couldn’t sing. 

He’d tried, at first, but that man had come in and beaten him until it didn’t seem like a worthwhile gesture any longer. 

“Pretty ladies should have pretty voices,” he said. “Otherwise, don’t embarrass yourself trying.”

He was teaching Enjolras obedience today. At least, that’s what he said. Enjolras was spending the day chained wherever that man said he was supposed to be. He had spent the night in a bed for the first time since he had been here, but he hadn’t slept. His legs were pulled apart uncomfortably far, which the man said was how wives slept, so if their masters needed them, they were available. His hands were strapped across his chest to cover his tits… his body, but the man said they were his tits. 

In the morning, he was taken and beaten until he said he’d slept well. “Good girls are polite,” the man said. “Don’t whine, no one cares.”

Now Enjolras was “making breakfast”. Of course, he was a proper upper-class lady, he didn’t really make breakfast. He oversaw it, which meant he was chained up in the kitchen, bent over, legs still spread, while the servants bustled around him.

He had tried to bed them for help at first, but they had laughed at him and told their master. He had that less funny. Now Enjolras was good, waiting to be called, with the warning that if he continued to try to speak out of turn, his tongue would be forfeit. 

Today was different. He was unchained after they fed each other, leaving him to watch. His stomach complained as they led him away, and he stumbled and tried to remember when he had least eaten. That man was waiting for him in the bedroom.

The servants left him, hands and feet tied, on the bed, and exited discreetly. Enjolras hated them. As the door closed, that man spoke.

“Today we begin your training in earnest,” he said. “We will start by teaching you about your own body.” He stepped forward, pulling Enjolras’s knees apart roughly. He paid no attention to his bound ankles, drawing an involuntary cry from Enjolras’s gagged mouth. He was ignored.

“Be very, very still,” he warned. “Don’t make me do something you’ll regret.” His fingers ran over Enjolras’s shoulders, almost gently. “I’ll start here. Nothing above this matters.” He placed a bowl of grapes on the bed next to Enjolras, and removed the gag. 

“These are your shoulders. Say that. Say ‘these are my shoulders’.”

“These are my shoulders,” Enjolras said. It was more of a question than anything else, but a grape was placed in his mouth, and he bit down. The taste exploded through his senses, shaking him so hard that he almost forgot where he was.

“Good girl,” the man said, and Enjolras almost didn’t mind.

He ran his fingers down Enjolras’s body, naming each part with the calm confidence of ownership. His fingernails were like tiny knives as they pinched Enjolras’s nipples, holding them as a warning of what he could do if he chose. Enjolras repeated that these were his tits without even thinking about it, and was rewarded with a grape that tasted like nothing.

Those probing hands reached below his waist, and Enjolras closed his legs without thinking about it. He was slapped hard across the face, the blow sharp enough to leave his head spinning. He retched, tasting the bile and chewed grapes burning his throat as he automatically swallowed them back down.

“That was your first and only warning,” the man said. Enjolras blinked back tears. “Your punishments will get worse every time you disobey me. Now, stay put.”

His hand touched the head of Enjolras’s cock. 

“This is your clit,” he said. “And this,” his other hand, dripping with something cold and liquid, dipped below to tease at the opening of his asshole. “This is your cunt. It’s wet! That means you’re aroused.” 

Enjolras turned his head away.

“Say it for me. This is your clit, and your cunt, and your cunt is wet because you are aroused. Say it.”

Enjolras wished he had the strength to spit in his face. 

“You have five seconds to say it. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

He began to count, slowly. “Five.”

Encjolras closed his eyes and tried to think of elsewhere. He heard the counting continue, but he was busy trying to imagine that he was in another world, where this man could never find him. 

“Three.”

Enjolras started shaking.

“Two. Don’t make me do this, beautiful. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t,” Enjolras begged. He didn’t know what this man was going to do, but his body was aching from what had been done to him already, and he didn’t know when he’d last eaten. 

“It’s not that simple, pet,” he said. “I have to teach you. You have to understand that you’re mine. One. Your time is up. Say it.”

Enjolras closed his eyes, prayed he’d survive this, and said nothing.

In one quick motion, he was flipped over onto his front, his face pressed into the bed and then the man wasn’t touching him anywhere, and Enjolras thought he could die from the temporary relief. The man rummaged around behind them for a moment, and Enjolras, without waiting to plan, curled up as best he could and roles onto the floor.

The man heard him, caught him as he was struggling to his knees, bound hands working frantically at the locked door. He grabbed his captive around the middle, dragging him away, and was rewarded with a donkey kick clumsily striking his knees. He shouted and stumbled, but his arms didn’t weaken enough for Enjolras to escape. 

Enjolras screamed, he fought, but he was thrown back on the bed, his hands cuffed to the headboard, and his heart heavy with the realization that no help was coming.

“You’ve made this worse for yourself,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You know I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t just let you think you can do whatever you want. You understand that, right?”

Enjolras tried to bite him.

“No? Well, you will.”

His hands forced Enjolras’s head down, smothering him against the pillows. Enjolras struggled wildly, his legs kicking out, but he man held him down easily, locking something around his neck. When he was let up, Enjolras found himself chained by the throat to the headboard and a short leash that choked him when he tried to move his head.

“I will teach you obedience,” the man said. “I will teach you what you are, and who you belong to. It won’t be easy, for either of us, but you will enjoy it when your finally in your proper place.”

Rough arms pulled him up, his ass displayed in the air like an animal, the manhandling making his collar go tight. A finger stopped at his hole. “This,” the voice said, “is your cunt. See how it’s wet? See how it opens up for me? You’re wet because you’re aroused.” Enjolras wanted to protest, but he hand wrapped around his cock, a tight, warm sort of pleasure, sickeningly sweet as the aftertaste of the grapes. The other finger was still working its way inside him, a burn and thrust that made him suppress a groan he didn’t mean. 

“You can feel this,” the voice said. “You know what this means, why you’re wet. Your cunt gets wet when you’re aroused. I don’t expect you to admit it, not yet, but you’ll get there before we’re done. This will all stop when you tell me the truth about yourself.”

Enjolras didn’t want it to stop. The thought shook a snob out of him, and not one of pleasure. But still the hand continued, fingers thrusting in and out, a clenched fist, that perfect tension, unflagging and strong on his cock, continuing until Enjolras came. 

It was a hollow orgasm, leaving him with his face pressed to the pillow, shaking with the effort of holding in his sobs and shame, no pleasure beyond the physical. He wanted to die.

The hand milked him through the aftershocks, through any tenderness, what joy it could bring, and paused while Enjolras was still shaking. Enjolras tried to pull away, not caring about the chains or the collar that choked him, the air itself less important then getting away.

And then Enjolras screamed. The hand was back, but it was waring a glove this time, a glove covered in tiny metal spikes. Not sharp enough to draw blood, but the hand was as firm around his cock as it had been to make him come.

And the fingers, they were back too, covered in something, not the lubricant from before. No, this was hot, it was burning him from inside out. The fingers were no longer fucking him, they were jabbing, sharp and painful, fire inside of him. And the hand around his cock was too much of what had so recently brought him such unwelcome pleasure.

“You know how to make this stop,” the voice said. “It was so much fun when you were a good girl for me. Your pussy was wet, wasn’t it?But now, you’re being punished. Now it hurts. I’ve been very nice, given you what you want all day. But now you have to do something for me. You have to tell me you understand what what I’ve been telling you. Can you do that for me?”

The hand gripped tighter, the spikes digging into the tender, overstimulated skin. Any more, and it would break.

“Your poor clot’s so tired. It’s not used to this much pleasure, I guess. You’ve never had multiple orgasms?” 

Enjolras whimpered, trying to squirm away. “Please stop.”

Dry lips pressed against his back. “I’ll keep going, love, until you tell me to stop. You’re going to come again, or your clit will get too tired and worn down for me to touch.”

Enjolras had visions of his cock torn up by those spikes, his body in tatters, ripped to shreds by the fire inside that wouldn’t stop, the touch that seemed determined to destroy him. 

“Tell me to stop if that’s what you want,” the voice said. “You know how to say it.”

He wouldn’t say it. He could withstand this. He could stay silent until death took him.

Those lips were on his back again, kissing him in a sick parody of intimacy. “I found you all alone and rescued you. I showed you what your life could be. You may be afraid and confused now, but in time, you will learn to love me for what I did for you.”

A flash of rebellion sparked at that. He hadn’t been alone. He could almost see their faces now, almost remember what it had been like to be loved, not kissed on his back as he struggled to get away, but gentle hands around his shoulders, in his hair, someone dark-eyed and tired, surprised to a smile.

“I know who you are.”

Enjolras was going to kill him. He was going to see those dark eyes, those gentle hands, again. They would find him, and he would kill this man. 

“My cunt was wet because I was aroused.”

The man was right. Enjolras knew who he was. He didn’t forget.

The hands stopped, almost surprised. “Good girl,” he said, voice soft.

“I know who I am,” Enjolras repeated.

His captor filled his fingers out of him, none too gently, and unclipped the collar so it wasn’t choking him any longer.He flipped Enjolras over, petting his hair. His mouth was wet and sloppy, kissing and licking on Enjolras’s chest. “ _Very_ good girl,” he whispered. “I’ll let you rest for now, you must be tired. I”ll wake you for dinner. I hope you’re ready to join me at the table today.”

Enjolras clenched his jaw, determined not to cry until his captor was gone. 

“I love you,” he said, already thinking of revenge.


End file.
